


What If?

by nverland



Category: Actor RPF, The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-04 12:36:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12169014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nverland/pseuds/nverland
Summary: Viggo has a problem with depression and hurting himself.  Orlando wants to protect and love him.Warning:  Self-abuseFirst posted to LiveJournal 6/2005





	1. What If?

What If?  
Author: Carol  
Rating: NC17 overall  
Pairing: Viggo/Orlando  
Beta: Claire first chapter, ~N rest of chapters  
Disclaimer: This is fiction, meant to harm no one, for entertainment only  
Warning: Self abuse  
Summary: Viggo has a problem with depression and hurting himself. Orlando wants to protect and love him.  
First posted to LiveJournal 6/2005

 

He hated it when he felt like this. Like the whole world was out to get him. He felt alone, unloved, unwanted. Everyone wanted a piece of him, more than there was to spread around. And no one to care what happened to him, like he didn't matter anymore.

He was having trouble seeing when it would all end. His ex wanting more and more for their son. His son demanding more money for extras that he already provided, but never having any time to give back. His manager, who wanted him to take more and more roles to make more money and have more fame, when all he wanted was time to do what he enjoyed. time to sit, to write, to paint and take photos. And the one person he loved, that he thought he could depend on to be there, to talk to, being so far away and never returned his calls.

After a while, he quit calling. If they needed all this from him, then maybe he was just being selfish, maybe he did need to work more, to give more. After all, he'd been given so much already. He really shouldn't complain. So what if he had so little time anymore. Maybe he was the selfish bastard his ex-wife claimed he was.

And he could understand why his lover didn't call, who needed to listen to such a whiney, needy person. someone who did nothing but complain and demand so much energy of you. He deserved time for himself too. He had a career and a life.

He sat in the dark, drinking, feeling sorry for himself, crying. Finally, after hours of sitting there, thinking, feeling worse and worse, he got up and ambled into the kitchen. He wasn't really drunk, just loose enough to not care anymore. And he was hungry. He realized it had been a long time since he'd eaten. As he reached into the fridge to look for something to eat, he dropped the glass in his hand, breaking it. He stood, looking at it for a minute before stooping to pick up the shards of glass. As he picked up one large piece, it pricked his finger. It didn't really hurt, and he was fascinated by the blood, the feel, the texture. He sat on his heels, watching as it slightly bubbled up. He wondered what it would feel like if he cut somewhere else, something larger. Would it hurt? How much more blood would there be?

He sat there, staring for another moment, then raised the shard to his arm and, taking a deep breath, slid it across his forearm, and dropped the piece as crimson sprang to the surface, flowing down the muscle and dripping to the floor. Funny. It didn't hurt, just stung slightly, not bad. He dropped back onto the floor, his arm held in front of him, watching as his life force dripped, dripped to the tiles. He never heard the front door open, never heard his name called, or the bag dropped in the entryway. Never noticed when his lover entered the kitchen to gasp at the sight of him sitting there surrounded by glass and in a pool of his own blood. He never noticed anything until he heard the sharp intake of breath, and felt his lover wrap him in his arms and press a towel to his arm.

"Oh, baby, what happened? Is this my fault? I should have called, but there were no phones, and my cell wouldn't work from where we were. I tried to get here as soon as they let me go. Oh, baby, look at me."

He lifted tear-filled, red rimmed eyes and gazed at the beautiful face in front of him. He'd come home. He still cared. He was here. Maybe he did still love him.

"I just...I don't know. I just thought no one cared. And I was hungry and looking for food. And then the glass broke, and I cut my hand. And I wondered what it would feel like if I cut myself, would it hurt. It doesn't, you know. Hurt. Just felt kinda funny."

"Oh Vig, I love you. I've always loved you. You're never alone. Come on, let's get this arm fixed." .

Orlando pulled him up off the floor, trying to keep pressure on the arm to stop the slow, and drug Viggo to the bathroom. Opening the medicine cabinet, he drug out the antiseptic and butterfly band aids and started to work on Viggo's arm. After getting it all cleaned and sealed up, he lead him to the bedroom, and giving him two aspirin tucked him into bed, kissing him lightly on the forehead.

"I'll be back in just a few minutes, love. I need to clean up the kitchen. Don't want anything left for us to step on in the morning, do we."

Viggo settled down in the bed with a sigh. Maybe everything would be okay now. Orlando was home, someone cared, and he wasn't alone anymore.

In the kitchen, Orlando surveyed the mess. Picking up the phone, he called Viggo's agent and told her to put everything for Viggo on hold until further notice. Then he called Exene and told her to keep Henry away for a few days, that they were going to need some time alone.

After cleaning the kitchen, as best he could of the glass and blood, he went back to the bedroom and, after taking off his clothes, slipped into bed with his lover. Noticing that Viggo still had bright eyes, he leaned over and kissed him gently.

"I love you, Vig. Never forget or doubt that. I am always there. Just promise me we don't have to keep doing this. One of these times I won't get home in time. I don't think I can take losing you."

"I love you, Olri. Always, have, always will. I just forget sometimes. I won't do it again. Promise."

And he drifted off to sleep in Orlando's arms, a smile on his lips. And Orlando knew that this probably wouldn't be the last time, but prayed that he'd always be there in time, when it happened again. Because, what would he do, if he never had Viggo with him at the end of it all?

~tbc~


	2. Careful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Careful  
> First posted to LiveJournal 4/2006

Chapter 2 - Careful  


 

`Well,' he thought, `here we are with another night of dealing with  
fans. Another night when someone is going to want more and more of  
me. I'd stay home, pretend being ill, if it weren't for Henry. This  
is for him.'

Viggo paced around the empty house. He'd moved last year, into  
something more comfortable, more out of the way of the public eye.  
Hadn't helped much, though. Photographers still found him. He had  
to sneak in and out. Couldn't have friends over without being seen.  
And his lover. His lover hadn't even been to the house yet. Afraid  
of being seen and someone finding out about them. And what a mess  
that would make. They'd have no peace then.

But tonight, tonight was special. He'd agreed be a backup artist for  
Henry's first public reading. This was important for Henry. And he  
couldn't let him down. It was just that he'd done so much already  
this year. Gallery openings, book signings, promotion work. All  
Viggo wanted was some time alone. Some time for just himself and his  
partner.

What a joke. They hadn't seen each other since before Christmas.  
Orlando was off filming, or running around the world with Kate. He  
evidently didn't need Viggo anymore. Not like Viggo needed him.

The more Viggo wandered about the empty house, thinking, the more his  
mood dropped. Stopping in the den, he picked up and set down the  
phone several times. He thought about calling Orlando, just to hear  
his voice. Maybe he'd finally offer to come home, at least for a few  
days. Then he'd remember that Orlando was in London, taking a needed  
break. London, instead of home, with Viggo. `Guess that shows where  
I rank in things now.'

He wandered out into the back yard, but things weren't the same there  
since Brigit died.

`I really am all alone. Not really needed for anything anymore,' he  
thought sadly. `Another few months and even Henry will be gone.'

After rambling about a bit more, Viggo noticed it was time to start  
getting ready. He gathered up the clothes he planned on wearing,  
showered, and shaved. As he rinsed the last of the lather from the  
blade, he stood staring at it. He knew he'd promised Orlando he'd be  
more careful, he wouldn't hurt himself again. But maybe just this  
once. Not like Orlando would ever know, and it made the pain in his  
heart a little less, to hurt himself.

Steadying his hand, he made several small cuts to the inside of his  
arm. He watched, fascinated, as the blood welled to the surface and  
trickled into the sink. After several minutes, Viggo rinsed the cuts  
under some cold water to stop the bleeding and rinsed off the sink  
and blade.

Returning to the bedroom to dress, he realized he'd never be able to  
wear the shirt he had out, his arm would be visible. And he had no  
desire to explain away what he'd just done. Reaching into the  
closet, he grabbed a long-sleeved flannel shirt and finished  
dressing. Grabbing his bag, he rushed out the door, and off to the  
reading.

Later that night, Viggo came slumping in late. The reading had been  
all right. Henry had done wonderfully. But Viggo knew he would. He  
was a bright, intelligent young man. But the place had been packed.  
Not with people to see Henry, or to be there for the poetry. With  
fans. It never seemed to end.

He was exhausted. Dropping his bag in the living room, he wandered  
down the hall to the bedroom. Stripping off his clothes, he had to  
carefully peel the sleeve off his arm, where it had stuck to the  
wounds. Once he was undressed, he collapsed into bed, too drained  
from the day to care about anything but sleep. His eyes closed and  
he was out almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He never heard the front door open and softly close. Never heard the  
bag and shoes being dropped in the entryway. Never heard Orlando  
come into the bedroom. Orlando, who stood quietly watching Viggo  
sleep, who quickly removed all his clothing and crawled into bed  
behind Viggo, lowering his face to the back of Viggo's head and  
breathing deeply.

`God, how I've missed this. Just the smell of him.'

Settling down behind Viggo, Orlando carefully wrapped an arm around  
his waist, pressing firmly to his back, but not wanting to wake him.

Viggo awoke with a start. Someone was there, behind him, holding  
him. As he jerked awake, whoever it was loosened the hold on his  
body, letting him turn to see who was there. Seeing Orlando was  
almost too much. He thought he might be dreaming. It had been so  
long.

Seeing the look of mixed shock and joy on Viggo's face brought a  
smile to Orlando's.

"Hey, baby," Orlando murmured just before claiming Viggo's mouth in a  
soft kiss. "Miss me?"

Viggo couldn't answer, just buried his face in Orlando's chest.

"Shhh, it's all right. I'm here now. Everything will be fine. I'm  
home now. And I'm not going anywhere for a while. It's just going  
to be us."

Viggo nodded, afraid to answer, afraid of what his voice might do.  
He just nuzzled in closer, relishing the scent and the closeness.  
They fell asleep that way, wrapped together, gathering comfort from  
just being near again.

Orlando woke first the next morning, just before dawn. He rolled  
slightly away from Viggo, so that he could watch him sleep. The more  
he watched, the more he wanted him. Slowly, gently, Orlando ran his  
fingers across Viggo's face, remembering every little line, and  
discovering new ones. `Gone too long,' he thought. He let his  
fingers slide down Viggo's neck, tracing across his collarbones.  
Traveling further still, grazing across every small section of skin  
he could, he moved on to the pert nipples. `Man always has perky  
nipples.' Unable to restrain himself, Orlando bent his head to  
gently trace around each peaked nub, not wanting to awaken Viggo, but  
needing to taste his skin.

A soft moan escaped Viggo's lips, followed by his hands reaching to  
hold Orlando to his chest. He could feel Orlando smile against his  
skin, just before latching onto his taut flesh, sucking and nipping  
first one and then the other nipple. Rolling onto his back, Orlando  
followed him over. He continued his assault on Viggo's chest, then  
moved lower, lapping at the tight stomach, and nibbling at the peaked  
hipbones, finally moving to hover over the weeping shaft that  
throbbed against Viggo's stomach. Sticking his tongue out, he lapped  
at the pearly fluid that had gathered at the tip. Opening his mouth  
wider, he slipped his lips over just the head, suckling softly.  
Viggo groaned and arched up.

"Baby, if you keep at that, I won't last. Been too long."

"Well," Orlando said, rising up, "we don't want that, do we?"

Moving up, Orlando leaned down to kiss Viggo thoroughly, before  
reaching into the bedside table to retrieve the lube.

"Never move anything, do you love?"

Kneeling back up on the bed, Orlando opened the tube, pouring some  
onto his fingers. Viggo watched raptly, spreading his legs to allow  
Orlando access to his body. Smiling, Orlando shook his head and  
reached behind himself. Running his fingers across his own opening,  
he pressed a finger into himself, working quickly to loosen the tight  
muscle. Adding another finger and stretching himself, he made quick  
work of getting ready. When he was sure he was open enough to accept  
Viggo, he pulled his fingers free, and spread the remaining lube onto  
Viggo's over-heated shaft. Raising himself up, he knelt over Viggo,  
lifting the hard column and lowering himself slowly until he had  
Viggo fully seated inside himself. Viggo watched with wonder as the  
only person in the world that he had ever loved made them whole  
again. Orlando rocked slowly at first, getting used to the now-  
unfamiliar invasion, slowly building the tempo, until they were both  
pressing to meet each downward thrust. Viggo reached down, grasping  
Orlando's cock firmly, stroking to match the brutal rhythm they were  
now keeping. Only a few firm tugs, and Orlando's back arched, head  
fell back, and he shrieked his completion to the heavens. The  
grasping waves of Orlando's channel around him, the splatter of hot  
seed against his chest, the sight of Orlando lost in rapture threw  
Viggo over the edge, and as the first rays of dawn crept through the  
curtains, Viggo pressed up one more time, filling Orlando with all  
his body had to offer.

Orlando collapsed onto Viggo's chest, both men gasping as they  
struggled to fill their lungs with much needed air. Viggo wrapped  
Orlando in his arms, holding him tightly to his chest. After a few  
moments, they rolled to one side, still wrapped together, and drifted  
off to sleep.

When Orlando awoke a few hours later, he pulled back to watch Viggo  
for a moment before getting up to use the bathroom and relieve the  
pressure in his bladder. He never thought about how his body stuck  
to Viggo's arm when he pulled away. After relieving himself, he  
stopped to wash his hands and noticed light smears of blood here and  
there on his body. Sure that he hadn't hurt himself, and it wasn't  
his own blood, Orlando returned to the bedroom, worried that somehow  
Viggo had been injured. Thought he couldn't think of how. Crawling  
back under the quilt, he nuzzled at Viggo to wake him.

"Baby, wake up. Are you all right?"

"Umm, I'm more than all right. I have you here."

"Love, I think you might have gotten hurt. There's blood on me, and  
on the sheets. Let me check you."

Viggo's eyes popped open. `Shit. My arm.'

"I'm fine, probably just a scratch or something," he said, rolling  
away.

"Vig, what happened? I know that look."

Reaching out carefully, Orlando rolled Viggo back over, and started  
the search. He didn't know where it was, but he knew somewhere he  
was going to find fresh cuts. And it didn't take long to find them.  
There along his left forearm were four small slashes.

"Why, baby? What happened to make you do this again? I thought you  
weren't going to hurt yourself anymore."

Viggo sobbed, and tried to hide his face in the pillow. But Orlando  
wasn't having any of that. Holding his lover so that he had no  
choice but to look at Orlando, he waited patiently for Viggo to  
talk. And eventually he did. Letting all of the hurt, the  
loneliness, the pain and the frustration ramble out, mixed with tears  
and sobs. Orlando waited until Viggo was done, then gathered him  
into his arms, crooning softly until Viggo finally stopped sniffling.

"Baby, I'm going to go get some antiseptic and bandages to put on  
this. Then we're going to talk. This can't keep happening. One day  
you're going to hurt yourself badly, and no one will be here to fix  
it."

"I know. And I'm sorry. I tried, I really did."

"I know. But no more, love. I can't stand to see you hurt like  
this. Next time it's this bad, promise you'll call me. I don't care  
where I am, you are the most important thing in the world. Everyone  
and everything else can wait until you're better."

Orlando got out of bed and went into the bathroom. He gathered up  
the medicines and bandages and went back to the bedroom. He didn't  
know how many more times he was going to come back from long trips  
and find Viggo torn up like this. But he was terrified that one day,  
he wouldn't make it back in time. That he'd lose the man he loved to  
the sorrow and darkness that seemed to dwell just below the surface.

But for now, he was here, and he'd make things better again. Patch  
up the broken body and broken spirit. Mend as much as he could. And  
he'd pray that it would be enough to hold Viggo together when he had  
to leave again. Because, what would he do if he didn't have Viggo to  
come home to any more?

~tbc~


	3. Supposed to be Different

Chapter 3 - Supposed to be Different  
First posted to LiveJournal 8/2006

 

Viggo finished unpacking, putting everything he’d brought along into closets and dressers. He’d had to bring extra with him for Orlando, since he wasn’t going to have time to stop by home before he met Viggo at their home in New Zealand.

‘Home,’ Viggo thought. Seemed like the only time they had peace and didn’t have to worry was when they were here, home in New Zealand. They still had friends in the area, and the locals never bothered them like anywhere else they might go. So they’d bought the house Viggo had stayed in during filming. It was a comforting familiar place.

He’d stopped at the store on the way, also. They hadn’t been there in months, so he knew there wasn’t anything left to eat. And they were planning on staying for a week this time. Viggo didn’t want to need to leave the house once Orlando got home the next day.

Viggo had just finished putting the last of their things away, when he heard the phone ring. Wandering back out to the kitchen, he answered, unsure who would be calling him. He had only let Henry and Sean know exactly where he was, in case anything came up and he was needed.

Several minutes later, he placed the phone back on the cradle, looking and feeling numb, tears starting to trickle down his cheeks. Orlando was tied up, wouldn’t be there like they’d planned. He wouldn’t be there until Friday, and today was only Monday. And he needed to be back on set the next week. Viggo sank to the floor. He’d heard all this before, the apologies, the sadness in Orlando’s voice that mirrored his own. He knew that things happened on set sometimes that couldn’t be helped. But this time was supposed to be different. They’d planned this for over a month.

Finally, realizing that he’d been there for a long time, Viggo pulled himself up from the floor. He was too tired to care about anything except sleep. Wandering through the now-dark house, he dropped his clothes on the floor and collapsed in their bed, asleep as soon as his head hit the pillows.

Awake before dawn, Viggo tried to go back to sleep, ‘no real reason to get up, no one there to get up for,’ he thought. But he finally faced it, there was no way he was going to get back to sleep now. Rising from the tangled bedding, he made his way to the bathroom, showering, then dressing. Wandering into the kitchen, he set the kettle to boil and made tea, sitting at the table and watching the sun rise.

‘Maybe a trip into town, visit old friends, see what anyone is doing. Maybe I’ll find someone that isn’t too busy to have lunch.’

Viggo puttered about the house, making the bed, doing dishes, anything to occupy his time until the rest of the world was awake and active.

By mid-morning, he’d cleaned everything he could find, and was ready to take the short drive into town. Pulling in front of the familiar office building, Viggo found a space to park, and went inside. He stopped at the security desk, asking if Barrie or Mark were in the building. The receptionist checked, letting him know that, yes, Mr. Osborne was indeed in the building. She called up to his office, and then gave Viggo directions on how to find it in the large complex.

Getting out of the elevator, he was greeted at the secretary’s desk by Barrie, who was thrilled to see him.

“Viggo, what are you doing here? Vacation or work? Where’s your other half?” he asked excitedly, hugging Viggo and pulling him into his inner office.

“Nice to see you too, Barrie. I’m fine. I’m in town, just getting away for a few days, thought I’d stop in and say hello.”

“And Orlando? Did he make the trip with you?”

”No, he’s tied up with filming. He’s really busy these days. Seems like he’s got one film starting before the last one has wrapped.”

“Well, he’s a popular young man. So, tell me what’s new with you,” Barrie asked, settling them onto the sofa in the corner of his office.

They sat and talked about what they’d both been up to for what felt like only a few minutes, but was in fact closer to several hours. Finally, the secretary interrupted to let Barrie know that he had an appointment, and there was someone waiting for him. Viggo stood, hugging the other man and promising to keep in touch.

Leaving the building, he decided that since he was alone, maybe he’d just stop at a little bar he’d seen on the drive in to eat. The sign said they served food, anyway. Pulling into the dusty parking lot, he noticed there weren’t that many cars, but since it was past lunchtime now, that wasn’t such a surprise. Entering the dimly lit building, he made his way to a small table in a corner. The waitress greeted him, leaving a menu and going to get the beer he’d asked for.

Sitting there, sipping the cold brew and watching people while he waited for his meal, he noticed a young man alone at the counter, who also seemed to be watching him. ‘Kinda looks like Orlando,’ he thought. As they sat watching each other, Viggo felt the need for someone to talk to, someone to help him take his mind off his loneliness. Viggo nodded, and the man, John, came to sit with him. They talked, ate, drank, until the evening crowd came in. Suggesting that maybe they could go back to the house, Viggo tossed some cash onto the table, and they headed out to Viggo’s waiting car. He hadn’t realized it had gotten dark while he’d been inside, didn’t seem that long. But John was an interesting person to talk with, having lived in the area his whole life, and working odd jobs for the last several years. Time had seemed to fly by.

When they got back to the house, Viggo grabbed a couple of beers and they went to sit on the deck, continuing the varied conversation they had enjoyed earlier. It was nice to have someone talk to, who was interested in what he had to say, Viggo thought, as the evening wore on. A couple of hours, and a lot of beer later, Viggo was no where near sober. And John was looking more and more like Orlando to him.

The combination of too much alcohol, missing Orlando so much, thinking how much like him John seemed, and needing the touch of another person, Viggo leaned across the small space between them and cupped John’s cheek, brushing his lips against the other man’s. Starting to pull back, to see what would happen, John pulled Viggo in for a more thorough kiss, taking control and making it very clear he wanted more. It wasn’t long before they were in the spare bedroom, naked and in bed.

The next morning, John was in the kitchen making tea when he heard the front door open, and bags softly drop in the hall. He turned just in time to see Orlando walk into the room and stop. After a very awkward pause, he started to explain what he was doing there, but Orlando stopped him.

“Where’s Viggo?” he asked in a choked voice.

Looking down, John told him that he was still in bed, probably still asleep. That they’d been drinking, and he was sure that Viggo wasn’t going to feel very well when he woke up.

“Fine. I think you’d better leave now,” Orlando muttered, turning to the hall and Viggo.

John nodded, grabbing his shoes and jacket and heading out the door. Thankfully it was a short walk back to the bar, he thought as he started up the drive to the main road.

Stopping outside their bedroom, Orlando took a deep breath before opening the door, trying to steady his nerves, and wanting to give Viggo a chance to explain what was going on. He just hoped it was a good explanation, because right now Orlando wasn’t sure what he was feeling, other than numb. Not sure he wanted to see what was inside, he turned the handle. But the room was empty, and the bed made. ‘At least he didn’t bring him into our room.’ Turning and going a little further on, he opened the other bedroom, the one that Viggo used for a studio.

The room stank of stale smoke, alcohol, and sex. But there was no sign of Viggo. He could hear sounds in the bathroom, though. So he sat on the end of the bed, waiting for Viggo to come out. But he didn’t come out. And the longer Orlando waited, the more he quit being angry, and became worried. It wasn’t like Viggo to not talk to him. Unless he’d done something more stupid than get drunk and sleep with someone else. Orlando tried to keep his mind off that possibility. It had been a long time since Viggo had done anything to harm himself.

Finally, giving in to his frustrations and worry, he knocked at the door and waited. When there was no answer, he tried the handle, and the door swung open, revealing Viggo, sitting on the floor, bleeding. Grabbing a towel and stooping down, Orlando grabbed the bleeding arm and wrapped the towel around it, pressing to stop the crimson flow. His heart broke, seeing Viggo like this again. But it didn’t surprise him, this was how Viggo seemed to cope when he couldn’t face things. But he knew that he needed to be strong, take care of him. Whatever had brought everything on, he still loved Viggo.

“Baby,” Orlando said softly, lifting the other man’s face and looking into his tear-filled eyes, “what happened?” Orlando asked gently, so as not to upset Viggo more than he already was.

He didn’t need an answer, he knew what happened. But he wanted to get Viggo to talk to him, to say something besides sitting there crying and mute. If he could just get him talking, then they could work this out and make things better again.

Viggo just shook his head, trying to lower it back to his chest and pull away. When that didn’t work, he swallowed around the large lump in his throat. His head was pounding from the after effects of all he’d drunk the night before. He didn’t want to look at Orlando, let him see the guilt in his eyes. He knew what he did was wrong, and how it had to have hurt Orlando. Viggo felt that with everything he’d done last night, and now to have Orlando find him like this, he didn’t know if he could live with the guilt.

“You shouldn’t be here, just leave me this time, Orlando. I’m not worth the time and energy anymore.”

Letting go of Viggo’s arm, Orlando wrapped his arms around Viggo, pulling him close and kissing the top of his head.

“You’re always worth it, love. Just, I’m not sure what happened this time. I got here as fast as I could, like I said, and found a strange man in our kitchen, that you evidently slept with. And then I find you in here, cut up and bleeding again. Why, baby?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really know what happened. I was upset that you weren’t coming like we planned, and went to town. Saw Barrie, and stopped to eat. I was just talking with this guy I met, and we came back here to talk some more. I guess I drank a lot more than I should have, and I was missing you so much. And he reminded me of you, and I guess I just wasn’t thinking very clearly. I just wanted someone to touch and make me not ache inside so much. I didn’t mean for things to go as far as they did. When I woke up, I heard you in the kitchen, and realized what I had done last night. I just couldn’t face you, not after that.”

Orlando sat there, sick over Viggo’s confessions. He knew their being apart was hard on Viggo most of the time, but he’d never expected anything like this to happen. He knew right now he needed to get Viggo taken care of, tend to his wounds and calm him down. Once he had things back on more steady ground, they needed to take care of this, find more help for Viggo than he was able to give. Looking up, he saw Viggo with fresh tears and turning back into himself. Everything else could wait until later, right now, he needed to get Viggo up and out of the bathroom, and into bed.

“Shhhh, baby, we’ll work it out,” he said, stroking Viggo’s face. “Everything will be all right. Now, let’s see to that arm, and get you fixed up. Then we’ll take care of everything else.”

Orlando removed the towel, finding a long, deep gash down Viggo’s arm, and across the wrist. Rummaging around in the cabinets, he found some antiseptic and bandages from the last time they were home. Cleaning and wrapping Viggo’s arm, he led him out of the room, and into the kitchen, where he made them some coffee, and settled at the table.

This time was going to take more than just some cleanup and comfort. But with some work, and time, he knew they’d make things better again. He wasn’t sure what had triggered it this time. He knew what Viggo had told him, but he also knew there was something more than that, something that was going to take a long time to repair. He’d make some calls, talk to a few people they could trust and see who they might suggest for help. He couldn’t keep coming home and finding Viggo shattered and bleeding. And he wasn’t willing to lose the man he loved more than life. It would take time, and energy, and a lot more involvement than he’d had time for lately, but he’d do whatever it took to make Viggo better again. Because he just wasn’t willing to face a life without him. He sat there sipping his coffee and staring at the table, Viggo reached across to hold Orlando’s hand.

“I’m sorry, Orlando, for everything. I love you so much, I just lose it when we aren’t together.”

“I love you too, Vig. I just don’t want something happening to you. What if I wasn’t around one of these times? I don’t think I could live with you gone. We’ll find a way to make things better.”

Standing and taking Viggo’s hand back in his, Orlando led him back to their room and tucked him into the big bed, curling around him and soothing him off to sleep. He wasn’t sure what tomorrow was going to bring, but whatever it was, they’d face it together.

~tbc~


	4. Tired

Chapter 4 - Tired  
First posted to LiveJournal 6/2007

 

Viggo sat, reading the same page over and over, trying to comprehend what the words said. He shook his head; this was so hard for him, the fog made everything difficult to understand. Giving up, he set the book down and rubbed his eyes. He was so tired all the time now, just no energy. He was going to have to talk to the doctor about that next time he went in.

A week later found him sitting in the office of the counselor he and Orlando had chosen. They’d picked Dr. Moss carefully after much research and the assurance that Viggo’s visits would be carefully guarded. Neither of them thought it would do any good for people to find out he was seeing a doctor for his depression problems.

Viggo fidgeted, nervous. He didn’t really like Dr. Moss, and he didn’t like the way the medications the doctor prescribed made him feel. But he had been better able to control the sorrow he felt while Orlando was away this time, and he hadn’t done anything to hurt himself.

When the doctor came in, he asked how Viggo was doing, questioned how he was feeling on the medication, but didn’t seem to be paying attention to the concerns Viggo had about how he couldn’t concentrate on anything, how he felt he was in a fog most of the time trying to remember things, and how some days he really had trouble even getting out of bed, he was so tired. While Viggo talked, Dr. Moss made notes on a large tablet, nodding and hmmm’ing from time to time. When Viggo seemed to be done talking, the doctor finally looked up at him, explaining that there were going to be side effects to the medications, but that with time Viggo should get used to them and be able to lead a productive life. Rising from his chair behind the large desk, the doctor held out a prescription form, telling Viggo that he needed to continue with his medications, that he was making progress but it was going to take time. Viggo nodded, taking the slip of paper from the doctor and thanking him, but he felt inside like the doctor hadn’t heard a word he’d said.

Viggo plodded along, taking the medication that he kept being told would make him better, waiting for the effects to become more normal, waiting for Orlando to come home. But as the weeks passed, noting seemed to change, he was still tired all the time, still couldn’t concentrate on anything. He talked to Orlando on the phone almost daily, hearing about the sights, how filming was going, how wonderful it was to be working on this new film. Orlando always asked what Viggo had been doing, was he taking his medication, was he all right. Viggo always told him he followed all the doctor’s orders, but he was tired. Orlando told him, every time, that it was just that he’d been working so hard for so long that his body needed a rest and was taking it, that after he’d recharged his energy would be back, he didn’t really hear the concerns that Viggo raised about how he felt. After they hung up Viggo sat and wonder if anyone would ever hear his worries. But maybe this was how he really was supposed to feel, to be. Maybe this was what normal felt like.

Orlando came home during a break in filming, surprised at the mess the house was in. He knew that Viggo wasn’t the greatest of housekeepers, but this was the worst he’d ever come home to. It almost looked like nothing had been done in weeks. But what surprised him more was that Viggo wasn’t there to greet him when he got home, the house was silent. A search found Viggo lying face down in the middle of their bed, sound asleep in the middle of the afternoon. That just wasn’t like him, but evidently Orlando was right, he really was worn down and needed this time off.

Orlando sat on the edge of the bed, reaching to run his fingers gently through Viggo’s long sandy hair. Viggo turned into the touch, but didn’t open his eyes. Orlando was surprised to see several days’ growth of beard across the too-thin looking cheeks. Evidently Viggo wasn’t eating or shaving either.

As Orlando sat there, watching Viggo sleep, the dogs moved closer, wanting his attention, too. He patted them both, then went back to attempting to wake Viggo up. He was getting seriously worried when Viggo finally opened his eyes and gave a lazy smile.

“Forgot you were coming home today,” he mumbled, rolling to pull Orlando into his arms.

Orlando curled into the embrace, savoring the feel of being in Viggo’s arms again. He couldn’t wait for the time when his contract was up and he would be free to spend more time home, more time with his mate.

They spent most of the day lazing on the bed, Orlando having stripped off his clothes to better rest and cuddle. Traveling was tiring, especially when it was from another country and another time zone. There’d be plenty of time to get reacquainted when Orlando’d had a chance to rest. And he never rested better than when he was sleeping next to Viggo.

They got up late in the day, Orlando starving. After a light dinner, Orlando sat in the living room, dogs vying for attention while Viggo put away the remains of their food. All was quiet and good until there was the sound of breaking glass in the kitchen. Orlando shoved the animals out of his lap and went in the kitchen to check on things. What he found wasn’t what he’d expected. There, sitting in the middle of the floor, was Viggo, a broken bowl and left-over pasta scattered around him, and blood dripping from his hand, crying.

Orlando just stood and stared, unable to move at first. He wasn’t sure if this were an accident or if Viggo had injured himself for some reason that was never clear to Orlando. Viggo looked up, wincing at the look that passed over Orlando’s face before being hidden behind a look of concern.

“I was going to put it in the refrigerator and it slipped from my hands, I didn’t mean to make a mess.” Viggo looked down, just realizing he was bleeding. It dawned on him why Orlando was looking at him like that. “I was trying to pick up the pieces, I must have cut myself on a bit of broken glass,” he stammered, afraid now of what Orlando would do.

Orlando moved into the room, grabbing a towel and wrapping Viggo’s hand. Helping him to his feet, Orlando settled Viggo into a chair at the table, and started to clean up the mess on the floor, all the time talking and telling Viggo it was okay, that things would be all right. But he kept thinking how strange this all seemed, not at all like Viggo.

Wiping the last of the food from the floor, Orlando turned back to Viggo. The bleeding had stopped and the cut wasn’t that bad. Leading him to the bathroom, Orlando applied antiseptic and bandaged the wound. It worried him how placid Viggo was acting. Something was really not right.

Putting things back in the medicine chest, Orlando led Viggo back to the living room. Settling him in the corner of the couch, Orlando sat beside him, pulling Viggo into his arms. Within minutes Viggo was asleep, his head drooping to lie against Orlando’s chest. Orlando sat for a bit, then roused Viggo enough to get him to bed for the night. He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillows while Orlando lay there watching him sleep before drifting off himself.

The next few days were spent cleaning house and spending time together, and Orlando watching Viggo. His normally articulate and artistic mate wasn’t. He was lethargic, rambled more than normal about things that sometimes made no sense, and slept more than he should. He also wasn’t eating enough to keep a bird alive, let alone a healthy man. And Orlando realized that was the important part there - healthy. It was obvious that Viggo wasn’t.

The third day Orlando was home he shooed Viggo and the dogs out into the back yard. As soon as he’d gotten Viggo outside, he’d called Dr. Moss. He wanted some answers to Viggo’s actions, or more pointedly non-actions since he’d been home. The doctor assured him that Viggo was fine, that he was just adjusting to his medications and that he’d be back to his normal self in no time, just without the depressive tendencies. Orlando thanked the doctor and hung up, but he still had a feeling this was more than the doctor was telling him.

That night, when they crawled into bed, Orlando draped himself over Viggo, nibbling at his neck, hands stroking across familiar flesh, plucking at slightly peaked nipples, all in an attempt to excite and entice Viggo into more than just the cuddling they’d been doing. Viggo seemed to respond to the attentions, returning the caresses, kissing and stroking, and then cupping Orlando’s hard sex. But as Orlando’s hand slipped between Viggo’s thighs to return the favor, instead of finding the hard shaft he expected, he found Viggo was still soft, not in the least aroused.

As soon as Viggo felt Orlando grasp him, he froze. He’d hoped that being together again would help change what he hadn’t brought up with either Orlando or Dr. Moss, that he had no interest in sex anymore. Embarrassed, he turned away from Orlando, burying his face in the pillow. Orlando moved behind him, wrapping him in his arms and holding him close, murmuring soothing words, telling him it was all going to be okay, that whatever the problem was, they’d take care of it together. Eventually Viggo rolled over, burying his face in Orlando’s chest and drifting off to a fitful sleep.

They spent the next morning talking, finally. Orlando asked questions about the medications that Dr. Moss had been prescribing, and then looking them up on Viggo’s computer. After researching he found that the doctor was giving Viggo several medications that all did the same thing, and that all had some severe side effects that neither of them had been informed of before starting the regime. When he was done checking and making notes, they talked more. Orlando was stunned to learn how each appointment with the therapist had gone, that the doctor didn’t seem to listen to a thing that Viggo told him and never addressed his concerns, just gave him more medication to take. What almost upset him more was that Viggo was willing to go along with the treatment, thinking that this was what Orlando wanted and would make him happy.

Orlando was upset at himself; how could he have let Viggo think this was anything he wanted, when it occurred to him that he’d done some of what the doctor had done, he hadn’t listened to what Viggo was saying, had just glazed past it. Rising from his chair, he knelt by Viggo, laying his head in the older mans lap and asking for forgiveness for not listening. Viggo stroked the long dark curls, telling Orlando that none of this was his fault. Viggo knew that Orlando just wanted him to be better, to not hurt himself any more.

Late afternoon found them sitting in an exam room at Viggo’s physician’s office, talking to his regular doctor about the treatment Viggo had been receiving from Dr. Moss and trying to plan how to take him off the medications he was on. Dr. Kendall was more than understanding, he’d come in a few times when Viggo had needed treatment for injuries, he was well aware of the problems that Viggo suffered with.

The visit took longer than anyone had planned for, and by the time Viggo and Orlando left the office it was dark outside and the rest of the doctor’s staff had left for the day. But they had the answers they needed to start repairing the damage done by Dr. Moss, and a way to wean Viggo from the medications he was on. Once his system had a chance to completely clear out everything, Dr. Kendall would be starting him on one medication only that should be enough to help with his depression problems. And in the meantime, the doctor would be making some calls to find Viggo a counselor that would be there to listen while he worked through whatever was causing him to hurt himself, someone that would report back to Dr. Kendall after each visit.

Two weeks later saw Orlando sadly leaving to return to the set, and Viggo much more his normal self. Viggo was to start the new medication the following week, and they had attended the first session with the new counselor, Ms. Stroud, a few days before. They both liked her and that she seemed to be concerned for Viggo’s health overall, and accepting of their relationship, another thing that hadn’t been well received by Dr. Moss.

They knew this was going to take time, and a lot more work on both their parts. Orlando promised to call daily, and to listen to what Viggo was saying this time. Viggo promised that if things started to get out of his control he’d call Dr. Kendall and they’d work to get things back on the right path.

As Orlando settled into his seat on the plane, he had to wonder to himself, what if he hadn’t come home, if he’d waited longer to get there. Would they still have been able to bring Viggo back?

~tbc


	5. Demands

Chapter 5 - Demands  
First posted to LiveJournal 9/2007

 

 _Tired_Ranger_ has signed in.

 _Tired_Ranger_ : Angel, are you there?

 _Angel_Baby_ : I’m here, love. Is everything all right?

 _Tired_Ranger_ : I just  
Yeah, everything is fine

 _Angel_Baby_ : Okay, sounds like everything isn’t fine. What’s wrong, baby?

 _Tired_Ranger_ : Nothing  
Everything

 _Angel_Baby_ : That doesn’t help, love. What’s everything? Aren’t you with David and the others?

 _Tired_Ranger_ : I am, more with David though. The others just when we’re at some public outing. I guess I’m just getting tired.

 _Angel_Baby_ : Love, you’ve only been at this for a few days. What’s tiring you out? Talk to me.

 _Tired_Ranger_ : All the demands, all the people wanting a little bit here or there. They all want something at the same time.

 _Angel_Baby_ : Have you talked to David? Does he know how you’re feeling? Do you want me to talk to him? I will, I’ll call.

 _Tired_Ranger_ : No. They aren’t being any better with him; they all want him as much as me this time. The only bright spot has been the fans. They’ve been really wonderful this time.

 _Angel_Baby_ : Good, I’m glad they’re treating you right. Love, I have to go, I’m due on stage in 5 minutes. I love you, I’ll call tonight.

 _Angel_Baby_ has signed out of googlechat

Viggo sat back, staring at the screen. He really shouldn’t feel resentful that Orlando had to go, he knows that just because it’s morning where he is, it’s evening where his lover is, and that he has a job he has to do. But it still hurts sometimes when he has to be the thing that’s put off, the thing that seems less important.

Shutting off the laptop, he stored it back in its case and wandered around the hotel room, restless and tired and frustrated. He’d finished the rounds of interviews and photo calls for the morning, he had nothing else for another five hours.

He stood at the window, staring down at the people below. It was so far they looked like ants and couldn’t hold his attention for long. He thought of calling Henry, seeing if he wanted to have lunch, but then remembered he had classes all day. It seemed no matter what he did to distract himself his mood just got darker and darker.

He hadn’t felt like this since going off his medication while he was in London filming. Everything had been so good, so easy to deal with. He was with friends he cared about, who cared about him. He had Orlando there with him every day when he left, and every night when Orlando came home from the theater. But now, now he was in a strange hotel room, something he’d been doing for the past week. He didn’t have anyone that could come baby sit him, and he felt that really he shouldn’t need someone to watch him all the time. He was a grown man; he was capable of handling a little time alone, a little time with the press, with the interviews, the photographers.

Several hours later David knocked on the door, waiting to hear Viggo answer. He knocked again and finally heard Viggo calling he was coming. As the door opened David had a smart comment on his lips only to let it drop unuttered. Stepping aside to let David is was a very disheveled Viggo, one that had a very red-tinged bandage covering his forearm, looking very bleary-eyed like he’d been crying.

Moving into the room, David waited while Viggo shut the door, then pulled him into a big hug.

“What happened, Vig? Why didn’t you call me?”

“I…I…you were busy, I didn’t see any reason to bother you.”

“Come on, let’s get you settled down and see how much damage you’ve done. Have you talked to your partner today? Everything okay there?” David tried to get Viggo talking; anything to give him some insight to what started this today.

Going into the bathroom and gathering up the bandages and antiseptic the Viggo carried with him, David went back into the sitting room, placing them on the coffee table and sitting down next to Viggo on the sofa. He talked soothingly while he uncovered Viggo’s arm, checking to see what kind of damage there was under the gauze. Finding three small cuts, David reached for the medication and cleaned the wounds, making sure they weren’t more than skin breaks before wrapping them in fresh bandaging.

As he placed the materials back in Viggo’s travel case, the phone rang. Stepping back into the room, he heard Viggo talking with Orlando, discussing how the play had gone that night, how many people had been waiting when he came out to go home. He listened as Viggo answered a question, telling Orlando that he was fine now, that David was there with him. Looking up, he held the phone out to his friend.

David took the phone and at Orlando’s urging stepped out of the room and into the bedroom. A short discussion later, and David confirming that Viggo wasn’t well, along with his injuries he had the names and numbers of the doctors back home to call. Handing the phone to Viggo, he dropped into a chair to wait for the couple to finish talking.

By the time he hung up, Viggo looked near tears and was shaking again. David knew that Orlando hadn’t said anything to upset him more than he could help, but it was hard when they were so far apart and something like this happened. David moved next to Viggo and held him while his friend struggled to calm down. Once he was sure that things were better, he let Viggo know that he had the numbers for his doctors and that they’d call them, together, and get him taken care of.

Viggo nodded and waited while David called first Dr. Kendall and then Ms Stroud. Hanging up, he looked at Viggo, watching to see how he was holding up.

“Your doctor is going to call a medication he says you’ve used before in to the pharmacy there and have it transferred to one here so we can pick it up and let you start it now. Your councilor wants you to call her today, tonight, before you go to bed, she gave me her private number.”

“I will, I promise.” Looking out the window he noticed it was getting late. “Don’t we need to get ready for the next round of interviews?”

“I called their people earlier, while I was getting things for you, we’re going to do it tomorrow, when you feel better and have gotten some rest. And then we aren’t doing anything else until we get to London in a few days. I think you need a break and some time with Orlando. I know he needs the time with you almost as badly.”

Three days later saw the two men stepping off a plane at Heathrow, gathering luggage and heading for a little house on the other side of town, where a worried young man waited for his mate to arrive. Where he planned on spending every waking moment he could tending to the broken heart and spirit of the man he loved, and hopefully make it better so Viggo could go back out and do the things he loved again.

~to be concluded~


	6. Peace

Chapter 6 - Peace  
First posted to LiveJournal 9/2007

It’s been over a year now since we’ve retired and moved to the house in Idaho. To be honest, I miss the films and the stage sometimes. It was the best ten years of my life, other than the time I spend with my husband. I wouldn’t trade a day of that time for the greatest role ever written.

Those last two years before we quit were hard ones, we were apart more than together. If it weren’t for the telephone and internet I think we’d have both lost our minds. Sometimes technology is a good thing.

I finished my run on the stage and did a couple of indie films. I did enjoy those, so much less pressure than the big studios. Viggo finished that last film and did a lot of promotion for that and the one before it. He also did another book for his publishing house. But we agreed that once his promotional obligations were done, we’d quit. It was the smartest move we could have made.

I won’t say that those years were easy, they weren’t. He had setbacks, we had a few arguments, and not being with him to help make things better tore out my heart.

After we announced we were both retiring from acting, we took a trip to the places he loves - Argentina, Spain, Denmark. It was while we were visiting his family there that we finally got married. Just us and his Aunt and Uncle, we didn’t need more than that, and both our families were happy for us. Henry seems to be the most thrilled, though. He now has two Dads.

When we got home, there was some backlash, of course. Gay couples still aren’t as accepted in the United States as they are other parts of the world, and what with being known so well we had more than our share of criticism. But it wasn’t long before there was someone else to take our places in the news and we were left alone.

Viggo still owns his publishing company, but his brother runs that for him now. He paints and plays music and putters still, but he’s so much happier. I tend the house, help with the animals, and I’ve taken back up making pottery. Not that it’s that good, but I enjoy it and it makes him happy.

I can hear him coming now, so I’ll need to finish this for today. We’re going in to town for dinner tonight, and then coming back here to spend the night together, celebrating. It’s not every day that one has a first anniversary.

Setting the journal aside, Orlando smiled up at Viggo as he walked into the room. Wearing a ratty tee shirt and worn cutoffs, he was covered in sweat and dirt from working in the garden.

Bending down to give Orlando the barest of kisses, Viggo took his hand and led him upstairs to shower and dress. Life was good, he had everything he needed now. His home, his husband, and finally, peace.

~end~  
epilogue to follow


	7. Dear Diary

Chapter 7 - Dear Diary  
A/N: This story was supposed to be done. Today they decided they had more to say.  
First posted to LiveJournal 11/2012

Dear Diary,

It's been five years since Viggo and I chose to leave our public lives behind. Five years since we stepped out of the spotlight and started a life committed to each other. And five Christmas Eve's we've spent celebrating with our combined families.

It hasn't all been easy. The public wasn't very kind when we got married, came out, and quit. Sadly, not everyone can accept two men who love each other as we do. But eventually there was another person they didn't approve of, and they moved on, and left us alone, for the most part. The fans who stood by us are still there, though there aren't any films anymore. But they support our other ventures, especially Viggo's art and writing.

And we had our problems too. Viggo still backslides when things overwhelm him, but those times are very few now. And I lose my patience sometimes and we fight. But we always make up, and things go on.

We've both lost family and friends, and they will always be missed. But we know we'll see them again someday. And we've gained family also. Henry grew up and has started a family, and Viggo is enjoying the role of grandfather. And I am too, truth be told.

So overall, it's a good life. And I wouldn't change a day of it for anything. I have everything I'll ever need.

I need to close this now. I hear the family starting to arrive downstairs. They've all come for Christmas Eve. We'll be having dinner in a bit, and then presents. And after they all leave, we'll have our own celebration. Just the two of us.

Orlando

~end~


End file.
